


A Shade of Riddle, Colour Unclear

by Watermelonsmellinfellon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Addicts, Alcohol Abuse, Alternate Universe, Bisexuality, DEAL WITH IT, Death, Dom/sub, Don't whine now, Drug Abuse, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, It's an AU and i've already changed a lot of shit, It's not 50 Shades because stuff is changed, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Overdose, Possessive Behavior, Sadness, Slash, pansexuality, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6537868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watermelonsmellinfellon/pseuds/Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter was going to kill his flatmate for becoming ill. Why did he have to go and interview some rich git? Because he was a good friend. That time Draco was ill was also the time that Harry's life changed. For better or worse was yet to be decided. But Tom Riddle's incessant need for control was kind of creepy and Harry wasn't sure they'd mesh very well. </p><p>A/N: Tomarry/SLASH/AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Harry.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

Harry stared at the mess that he called hair. It seemed that no matter what he did it would never lay flat. The Potter genes were much too strong with him. According to his mother Lily, his father James had unruly hair as well. But so did his father Fleamont and Fleamont's father before him. Even though Fleamont had began a business around taming their Potter Nest, the products never actually worked on their hair. Everyone else, sure, but no Potter had any success.

Still, Harry attempted to at least make the mess look deliberate. Not a rolled out of bed mess, but like a windswept mess.

Why was Harry going through this hell that he would normally never bother with? Because best mates were there for each other and his mate Draco had fallen ill with pneumonia at the worst possible moment.

Draco worked for the student paper. His job was to get the juiciest details on everything going on and then spice it up as much as possible without it seeming outlandish. Draco was an entitled, self-absorbed git most of the time. He came from a family that was very well off and wasn't used to doing work.

The job he'd taken up was 'fun' according to him because he just gathered the information and then hired someone to take dictation from him and type it all out. Credit was given where it was due as well. Draco could ruin lives as quickly as he could make them better. It was a sort of power play that he wielded over the students to keep certain groups in line more so than others.

Harry was supportive of his friend. He tried to be there whenever Drake needed help and would normally be thrilled to help his fellow out at any moment, except right now for instance.

Draco had managed to snag an interview with some hotshot, multi-millionaire, entrepreneur who was like some big to do in various industries. He was also a major benefactor for the university. Harry had personally never heard of him before but Drake swore up and down that he was extremely famous and important.

And where was Drake on the day he was ruining Harry's life? He was laying on the sofa of their flat. Their specialized flat that Draco's father had purchased for his son who had actually allowed Harry to move in with him. The university was less than five blocks away and there were two pizza shops and three coffee shops between both buildings.

Draco was lacking in his usual, presentable self. For the most part, he looked like shite. His pale hair was not done, his eyes were puffy and red. Nose rebelling on itself every hour on the hour. Throat burning from the coughing and thin body in pain. The blond was bundled up, the remote within easy reach along with several glasses of water, cough drops, tissues, lip balm, his medicine, and three different pillows for when he tired of the one he was using.

"Potter, stop pouting and get your clothes on. I told you that suit would come in handy and see how right I am?" Drake called from the lounge. "It took nine months of haggling and some bribery to get him to concede to this interview and while I cannot go personally there's no one else but you who can do it for me. I can't trust someone else not to muck it all up!"

Harry sighed because of course the blond would pull the 'I trust you most' card. It was an evil trick. Evil! It also worked much too well for Harry's liking.

Harry slipped the suit from the wardrobe. It was a three piece that was as black as his hair and the waistcoat was the same shade of green as Harry's eyes. It had taken a lot of time to finally find a shade that matched but found it was, and Drake had insisted on Harry getting it in order to bring his eyes out more. To 'make him more compelling' according to the blond.

The tie was borrowed from Drake however, black silk that felt much too nice to be around Harry's throat. But Draco Malfoy would not have anything less than the best and of course his replacement interviewer would need to look just as smashing.

The blond whistled when he walked into the lounge. "You clean up pretty good! I have good taste. Fix the tie, it's a little askew."

Harry did so, waiting for Drake to give the okay.

"Alright, I did compile a list of questions for you to ask him. This is a digital recorder, old and out of date, but the best for this sort of thing. When you've gotten everything you need, you simply press this button," Draco explained, demonstrating with the silver piece of technology. "Press the red button once to turn it on and then you will say something along the lines of, 'Harry Potter, standing in for Draco Malfoy, interviewing Tom Marvolo Riddle.' When the interview concludes, you will press the button again and it will shut off."

Harry nodded, accepting both the folder that contained the questions, and the recorder. "I'm not that hopeless, you know."

The snort he received was a slight hit to his ego.

"Potter, my friend you may be, but you lack sense. Direction. Savvy. You're a bit naive. I guarantee you will trip at least three times before this day ends, but try not to do it in front of Riddle."

Harry's offended look made the blond laugh. "It's truth and I'm not sorry. Now you need to get going, it's a long drive down to London. Are your contact lenses still lost?"

"Yes."

"Damn. How bad is your eyesight really?"

"I need the glasses, Drake."

"Fine," pouted the blond. "Get going. If you do this well, I'll take us out to your favorite restaurant as a treat."

Drake hated the Three broomsticks but Harry loved it. With that kind of incentive, he would totally go through with this.

Drake lent him his Aston Martin DB9, something that was very fancy and very expensive. The fact that Harry was trusted to drive the white beast was a testament to their friendship. Draco barely let anyone even inside the vehicle, let alone drive it.

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

Harry's godfather was cousin to Draco's mother, so in a way, they were cousins as well. Maybe not directly related, but they were still family. But Draco didn't even let his other cousins near his 'baby'. Nymphadora hadn't been thrilled and Regulus swore that he and Draco weren't related. Harry was lucky it seemed.

The drive was long, but thankfully there was good music to listen to. Harry had to appreciate the ease of how the car drove, which was much better than Harry's used, 2005 Mini Cooper. It also took long distances better than his little thing did.

After two and a half hours of driving, and one latte later, Harry found himself staring up at the building that was apparently the headquarters of this Riddle's vast empire. It had to be at least twenty stories high, full of large windows and gleaming metal that was curved in beautiful designs just crawling up the side of the building. It seemed to fit somehow and it made Harry's stomach drop in slight fear.

Despite mostly looking the part, he most certainly wasn't the sort that even stepped into places like this. But this was for his best mate and he had to be the good friend that he was and see it through. He'd promised after all.

The foyer was immaculate, with marble flooring and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The furnishings were a sleek black that contrasted quite nicely. And the receptionists were all of the same ilk. Tall, beautiful, and blonde. Naturally.

The woman who seemed to be the blonde in charge, fixed him with a welcoming smile. He was certain the case wouldn't be the same if he had chosen to appear in anything but the suit that Drake had bought him for his twentieth birthday.

"How may I help you, sir?"

"I'm here for an interview with Mr. Riddle. Hadrian Potter for Draco Malfoy."

The young woman nodded and checked her laptop. "Mr. Malfoy is expected, you may go on up, please use the lift all the way at the end. It's the twenty-fifth floor," she said with a smile, teeth all straight and white beyond belief.

He accepted the large badge she handed over, clipping it to his lapel. VISITOR was printed in bright red letters, over it.

Harry nodded his thanks and sent her what he hoped was a calm smile. His heart was pounding so fast he was sure his efforts were ruined. Still, he made for the lift, ignoring how intimidating the two suited men on either side of it, were.

The ride was accompanied by low, classical music that actually managed to calm him a bit. So much better than the standard music people usually had.

When the door opened, he thought that perhaps he hadn't pushed the button. But it said he was on the twenty-fifth floor, even though the entire room looked exactly the same as the foyer.

"Mr. Potter, if you would wait here, please?"

He was startled by the sudden voice, looking over to find another blonde woman of impeccable stature, smiling at him. Another beautiful woman. This Riddle must have very definite tastes.

She motioned to a small seating area near the vast window overlooking the city. It provided a lovely view while he sat and tried to calm himself. He always hated having to go out and deal with people and here he was, having to do just that.

This was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

He looked through the file, finding the questions to be very generic and nothing too interesting. His reluctance was coming back ten fold as he realized that he seriously knew next to nothing about this man! Of course Draco couldn't have told him anything before this went down?

The brunet pulled out his mobile in an attempt to learn as much as he could before he met up with this millionaire.

Wealthy, philanthropist, entrepreneur, only twenty-seven years old, bloody hell. There was no photo along the page though.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up, finding himself faced with another blonde. Draco would have fit in perfectly. She was eyeing him expectantly.

"Mr. Riddle will see you in a few moments, have you been offered any refreshment?"

Harry shook his head, finding it funny how the woman sent a displeased look to the other blonde who had greeted Harry when he'd entered the room. Said blonde paled dramatically, eyes shifting a bit in her discomfort.

"We have tea, coffee, and water," offered the new blonde.

"Water would be fine, thank you," Harry said, a small smile in place to ease her displeasure.

The woman turned and ordered, "Fetch Mr. Potter some ice cold water."

The other bounced from her seat and went to do just that, leaving Harry with second blonde. "I apologize Mr. Potter, Penelope is our newest intern."

"No harm, no foul," he reassured her, finding the woman's slight nervousness to be charming in a sense. It was good to know that he wasn't the only flustered person around. It made the spectacular women in front of him seem more real.

He accepted the drink with gratitude and sipped it slowly, trying to keep himself calm now that he'd found his happy place.

The large door that had to no doubt lead to the Big Man's office, opened, revealing a very tall man who was well muscled, leaving. "Saturday, at noon, Riddle," he called behind him.

The man smiled at Harry as he walked past, and the second blonde escorted him to the lift, pushing the button for him and wishing him a good afternoon.

A moment later, Harry was informed, "Mr. Riddle will see you now. You may simply walk in."

Gathering the file, Harry flashed the women his most charming smile, feeling better when both flushed. He was capable of being enchanting when the time called for it. It made his ego inflate just a tad. He needed it for what he was about to do.

With his phone on silent, Harry entered the office, trying to take his time and ending up on the floor from tripping over the small lift in the floor that he hadn't noticed. Knees hit the hard marble.

This was Draco's fault! The blond had obviously jinxed him when he made that comment earlier! Harry probably wouldn't have fallen at all had nothing been said!

Still, a pair of strong but gentle hands gripped him suddenly, one at the waist and the other around his forearm. Harry was pulled to his feet quickly and came face to face with a man who put Draco's strange beauty to shame. And if that was the case, then he was certainly much better looking than Harry, making the younger man's ego plummet once again for the umteenth time that day.

Riddle's eyes were a mossy shade of green and his black hair was styled to the side with a simple wave to it. His jaw was strong and his cheekbones sharp. His level of attractive was so far above Harry it wasn't even funny. He also seemed to dress to accentuate his eyes, much like Harry had. Black suit with a waistcoat to match his eyes. Professional and gorgeous.

"Mr. Malfoy, my name is Tom Riddle. Are you well?"

Harry stared for the better part of a minute, before clearing his throat and putting on that false bravado that he was known so well for at school.

"Mr. Malfoy was indisposed and I had to come in his stead. And I am perfectly okay, Mr. Riddle."

"And you are?" Riddle asked, eyes alight with obvious amusement. Yes, Harry nearly face planting was quite the riot, wasn't it?

"Hadrian Potter, a classmate of Mr. Malfoy's."

Riddle gives a small smile. "I see. Would you care to take seat?" he asked, gesturing to the large, sofa on the left side of the room.

Harry followed the suggestion(order) and sat, waiting for the man to join him. Harry stared at the recorder for a moment and asked, "Would it be okay if I record this?"

"By all means, Mr. Potter."

The way Tom Riddle sat down was almost like art. His entire body just flowed into the motion and his right leg folded itself over the left. Both arms were placed comfortably on the armrest of the chair he had chosen. He looked lke the king of his empire.

Harry had to sit back and just appreciate the elegance. He was used to it from Draco and his parents, but rarely did he come across people so capable of fluidity. Tom Riddle seemed to be on a completely different level than Harry Potter was.

"Did Drake - um, Draco, explain what this interview is for, exactly?" Harry asked, pulling out the very first piece of paper and a pen to make small notes of his own. He was an observer after all and it would be interesting to note the facial expression accompanying the answers.

Riddle's voice was smooth as he answered, "Yes, it is for the final issue of your student paper, Graduation Edition. I am to be conferring the degrees at the ceremony and giving a small speech."

That was news to Harry. Basically the only reason he asked was because he'd hoped the man knew what was going on since Harry most certainly didn't.

 _This_ was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

"Good to know, Mr. Riddle. I have a rather large list of questions here for you, if you do not feel comfortable answering them, please just tell me to skip."

Harry reached for the recorder and pushed the red button. "This is Hadrian Potter, in lieu of Draco Malfoy, interviewing Tom Riddle for the Graduation Edition of the school paper."

Harry ignored the man's amused smile and began with the first question.

"What would you credit as the reason for such success? You have managed to amass quite the empire despite your age."

Harry was trying to reword the questions a bit. They seemed so boring. Was this really what Drake considered as _fun_?

Riddle explained his intuition and how good he was at reading people. Harry gauged his attitude, finding a sort of arrogance in his words. The man truly believed himself and judging from everything Harry had seen already, some of it had to be true at least.

"You seem lucky," commented Harry, unable to help himself. If Harry had those kind of people skills, he'd be able to deal with others better. The confidence would be nice to have.

Riddle's eyes narrowed and he didn't seem to like Harry's observation all too much, but it had already been said and Harry didn't really regret it anyway,

"I don't believe in luck or chance, Mr. Potter. It takes a specific kind of person to inspire others to work hard. I always have these best workers on hand. Leadership is a rather rocky terrain to manage and I firmly believe that those who are born for it, excel at it."

Basically, Tom Riddle thought he was God's gift to man.

"You sound like you have an obsession with control."

"I _prefer_ to be in control, Mr. Potter," Tom said, eyes smouldering. "Besides, with control comes power and power is but another part of the game. The best way to handle power is to assure yourself deep within, that you are meant to have it and control it."

"Would you say you have power?" Harry asked, curious despite the discomfort he felt at Tom's words. He was a control freak to the maximum!

The smile he got in return was cold and filled with a dark sense of humor. Harry was pretty sure he's missed some kind of inside joke.

"I employ nearly one hundred thousand people, Mr. Potter," came the silky reply. "Should I merely decide that I have lost interest in only one branch of my businesses, tens of thousands of people will be left jobless and destitute."

Harry marked down his observation. Tom Riddle seemed to like the fact that he was the reason so many people could survive in this day and age. Liked that he held the power over them and that he could effectively ruin so many lives at once if he so chose. It seemed to amuse him.

While an attractive face he may be, Tom Riddle was beginning to come together for Harry.

Tom Riddle lacked humility of any kind.

"Have you anything you like to do when you aren't swamped with work?"

"Perhaps you could be a little more clear, Mr. Potter? I'm afraid that I am almost always busy."

"Hobbies or things you do to relax?" Harry amended.

Tom's smirk is a little crooked. "I indulge in many hobbies. Things involving sailing or flying. Physically demanding hobbies. I don't have your average, everyday interests."

"Right," Harry agreed, making note. _Tom Riddle is a bit of a wanker as well._

"Would you say manufacturing is a worthy investment?"

"Construction and manufacturing are very important in everyday life, Mr. Potter. It's also beneficial to know how things tick."

Riddle was also a bit of a know-it-all apparently.

"It sounds more like personal interest instead of work. Do you feel strongly about that? Doesn't seem so analytical or logical. More like a matter of the heart," observed the younger brunet.

The amused smile returned quickly.

"Perhaps, though I do know many would suggest that I do not possess a heart."

So there were people who thought he was a jerk, maybe?

"Would your friends be among this lot or no?"

"Quite the invasive question, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I'd prefer to skip it."

Most likely was a yes, or perhaps wealthy, good looking men didn't have friends, or have _a lot_ of friends?

"I enjoy privacy, Mr. Potter, so much so that I rarely even give interviews."

"Why agree to go through this then?"

_Seriously, why do it if you hate it?_

"As a former student of Hogwarts, I became a benefactor in order to help the school develop better classes and clubs for the students. There was no school paper when I attended and I find Mr. Malfoy's persistence to be incredible and nearly impossible to dismiss."

Harry knew the feeling very well.

Harry looked down at the next question. "What motivated you to take an interest in farming technologies?"

"Many people do go without food, I merely like to believe that I am helping in an area that needs more attention," was Riddle's sharp reply. A sensitive subject then.

"I take it your philanthropist title comes from there then?"

Riddle gave a shrug, "It requires a canny mind."

Perhaps Riddle got off on the fact that he also had power over whether some people ate or not. Harry found that thought a little disturbing and moved on. He knew what it was like to go without food and he didn't like to linger on such thoughts. They took him to a dark place.

"Is there a philosophy you go by?"

"I am not the philosophical type, though I am partial to the quote, 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' Andrew Carnegie did know what he was talking about, I will give him that. It fits in so well with my preference for control, don't you think, Mr. Potter?"

_Do I think that you are a mental, control freak? Yes, yes I do._

Tom Riddle for all his good looks and obvious charm, had a darker side that while intriguing to Harry, also unnerved him. Harry didn't like being under the man's piercing gaze and just wanted to get out of the interview as quickly as possible.

"Do you think your adopted family has helped shape you into the man you are today?" Harry asked, moving on. He was now on the third page, the prior two riddled with little remarks he had, regarding Riddle. This question kind of bothered him a bit.

Family was always a sensitive subject for him and while nothing _too bad_ \- in his opinion at least - had happened per se, it was still incredibly personal.

"I wouldn't know, I have always been this way."

There were so many questions Harry had from just that, but he'd veered off the original questions too many times to try again. Though Riddle didn't seem to mind all that much, it would just get the bloody interview over faster if he were to keep his interest to himself.

They next question had him flushing and looking away. Damn Draco for putting that there!

"What is the matter?" asked Riddle, head tilting with obvious interest in Harry's sudden embarrassment.

"Are you gay?"

Harry was a part of the 'Gryffindor House' despite not residing in the dorms with the others. Not that many others did as well. Gryffindors were sorted based on their characteristics and when Harry had taken the online test, his results came back 42% Gryffindor, 40% Slytherin, 12% Ravenclaw, and 6% Hufflepuff.

Gryffindors were brave and headstrong. Just a fancy way of saying brash and stubborn. Also, sometimes they weren't known for thinking ahead and just plowing right through anything. So Harry just employed the use of that to get over his desire for hell to open up right there and swallow him whole.

And Riddle's reaction was hilarious and slightly terrifying. The man's jaw tightened a bit and eyes narrowed, darkening dangerously.

"No Hadrian, I am not."

Harry's flush did not recede and he cleared his throat. Riddle had used his first name. "Sorry. It's written here." _Swallow me up whole right now, Hell. I'm waiting! He probably thinks I'm coming on to him!_

 _This_ was what fifteen years of friendship meant.

"You didn't compile the questions?"

"No, that was Drake."

"Are you perhaps his assistant on the paper?"

"I'm his flatmate!" burst Harry, not liking the calculating look in the man's eyes.

"Were you supposed to be the one to interview me?"

"No, Draco is ill. I was… um, guilt tripped."

That sounded so much better than him being flattered into it. Less embarrassing too.

"That explains everything." Tom then sent him a smirk. "I'm not gay, Hadrian, I'm pansexual."

_Like me. Of all the things to have in common._

Harry nodded, looking away.

A knock at the door disrupted them. The second blonde was standing there, looking apologetic as she announced that Mr. Riddle had an appointment in a few minutes.

"Cancel it," the man said without even looking her way. "We are not finished yet."

He ignored her after that, shifting into a different position in order to continue his discussion with Harry. "Where were we, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't wish to keep you from anything important," Harry said in hopes of getting the fuck out while he still could.

"Oh come now, Hadrian," purred the older man. "Surely you'd allow me to learn a little bit about you in return. It's only fair after all."

Harry was sure the man was teasing him but he wasn't that great at picking up the signals. If he were Draco he probably would have already concluded this business ages ago.

"There's nothing of interest to know," Harry insisted, knowing it was completely false and hoping not to really have to say anything about himself.

"I'll be the judge of that. What are your plans after graduation?"

Harry shrugged, realizing that he was not going to get anything more out of the man and began packing up. "I've been at Hogwarts longer so I can get my Masters in Business Administration next month. I have already gotten my degrees in Accounting and Finance, and Management."

"Will you be looking for an internship?" asked Riddle. "We offer many here."

Harry very nearly snorted, but held it in. He'd seen what having an internship meant in this place and the first blonde had seemed so frazzled. He wouldn't put himself through that.

"No, thank you, but I'm not sure I'm the kind of person who would work in a place like this," he lied, knowing that he was going to be working in a place exactly like Riddle's building. "I'm going to work with my godfather anyway."

Standing up, Harry extended a hand and the smallest of smiles. It wouldn't hurt to be friendly, because if Riddle had as much sway as Harry was sure he did, he didn't want to rile the man up and watch as he destroyed Harry's life. Tom vaguely reminded him of Draco and Draco had already ruined four people with the school paper. Power plays and all that rubbish. Harry wasn't chancing it.

Riddle's hand was cold, but strong. He gave a good handshake. "Have you everything you need?"

Harry looked himself over and nodded, "Yes. Thank you for the interview, Mr. Riddle."

He was halfway toward the door when he realized that he was being followed. It was kind of creepy, having someone so much taller than him, practically lording over him.

Tom sent him a smug smile and said, "Merely making sure you make it to the lift alright."

On cue, Harry tripped. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, halting his meeting with the floor.

"Will this become a habit, Mr. Potter?" teased Riddle, his amusement very clear.

Harry was already swamped in embarrassment and he stepped away, clearing his throat as he did so. He tried to pretend that Riddle had not just breathed hot air onto his exposed neck. "I should hope not, Mr. Riddle," was his icy reply. Internally, he was cursing Draco for bloody jinxing him!

"Have you a coat?" asked the older man as he pressed the button for Harry, like Harry couldn't do it himself.

"No."

Harry slipped through the doors and gave a mere nod to the attractive man with the calculating gaze.

Riddle gave him a nod of recognition, "Hadrian."

"Tom."

The doors closed.

* * *

Tom Riddle waited for the door to close before turning to one of the women - Daphne, her name was - and ordered, "Get Macnair on the line, now."

He retreated to his office quickly, moving for the large bay window in hopes of trying to see if Mr. Hadrian Potter was leaving through the main entrance.

Indeed he did. The young man was descending the stairs at a swift pace, pulling his keys from his pocket. Tom was intrigued to see the vehicle the young man drove. An Aston Martin of all things. If the boy was used to opulence, then why the comment about his kind of people not working in places like Tom's building?

The phone buzzes.

"Monsieur Macnair is on the line for you, sir."

"Put him through."

"Yes, sir."

Without even greeting the man on the other line, Tom's first words were, "I need a background check on Hadrian Potter of Hogwarts."

* * *

Draco was basically in heaven when Harry had returned. Also, Harry's little notes accompanying the recording had put the blond in a good mood once again, despite the fact that he was so ill.

"You got so much! Thank you! I'm seriously going to buy you every Butterbeer in the place, I swear!"

"Don't get used to it," warned Harry, already changing into something more comfortable. "I am not going near him ever again. Control Freak to the maximum and he made me severely uncomfortable."

"But he's sexy, so are you sure it wasn't because you're horny?"

Harry's deadpan stare calmed the blond down immediately. "Draco, I have noticed that he is attractive. I lamented over that fact several times. During the interview I was too busy being creeped out by him to be aroused. If you're curious, yes, I may wank to thoughts of his face while I'm in the shower, but his personality really bothers me."

Draco was flipping through the papers. "Was he really that bad? Hey! What do you mean he'd like me?!"

Harry shrugged, unapologetic. "He gets off on having exacting control over people, Drake. Was very proud of the fact that should he up and lose interest in something, tens of thousands of people would most likely go broke. He got that look on his face that you usually do. Like minded I'm sure."

"Well he _was_ a Slytherin," said Draco with a nod of the head. "I could see it. Thanks!"

Offended one second and flattered the next. Definitely Draco Malfoy. Harry sighed because his friend was so hard to keep up with most of the time.

"I'm going to get some food, do you want any?" asked the brunet as he grabbed his keys.

"Crisps, cheese and garlic. Baked though."

The things he did for friends.

_This was what fifteen years of friendship meant._

* * *

**HADRIAN JAMES POTTER-BLACK**

**DOB:** _31 July, 1992, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain_

 **Address:** _93 Whistway Street, Hogsmeade Village, BS 0118_

 **Mobile No:** _0934-394-0934_

 **National Insurance No:** _AB 12 34 56 C_

 **Banking Details:** _Lloyds Banking Group, London, England_

 **Acct No:** _308934: £8,992.50 balance_

 **Acct No:** _308921: £10,000 balance_

 **Occupation:** _Postgraduate Student, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade._

 **-** _Masters of Business Administration_

 **House:** _Gryffindor_

 **Class:** _First_

 **Prior Education:** _Home Schooled_

 **SAT Score:** _2200_

 **Employment:** _None._

 **Father:** _James Fleamont Potter_

 **-DOB:** _27 March, 1968, Deceased 31 October, 1993_

 **Mother:** _Lillian Rose Potter nee` Evans_

 **-DOB:** _30 January, 1968, Deceased 31 October, 1998_

 **Godfather:** _Sirius Orion Black_

 **-DOB:** _3 November, 1968_

 **Adopted:** _2 December, 1998 by Sirius Orion Black_

 **Political Affiliation:** _None_

 **Religious Affiliation:** _None_

 **Sexual Orientation:** _Pansexual_

 **Relationships:** _None indicated at present_

**Additional Notes:**

_James and Lily Potter were both murdered by the serial killer, Voldemort. Voldemort attempted to murder Hadrian but only got so far as to carve a scar into the boy's head before one of his underlings accidentally ignited a match in the room that they were leaking gas in, and blew the entire building up. Hadrian was found alive, buried under Voldemort's body, which had taken most of the blow, and the roof of the house._

_Hadrian was put into foster care for a month, until Sirius Black was able to adopt him. The man had been considered a member of Voldemort's gang at the time and was under investigation, not allowed to see his godson._

_Hadrian's foster family were actually his relatives. His mother's sister Petunia, and her husband Vernon, and their son Dudley. When Black made a comment about Hadrian not going to Petunia because of how abusive she was to her sister, authorities decided to scout the premises and eventually had to remove Hadrian from their dubious care when he was located in the cupboard, under the stairs._

_No blanket or pillow and only a ratty shirt and a pair of pants much too large for him to wear, on his body. He said that he was being punished and had been in there for two days without food or water. Excrement was found in the far corner. He'd been locked in._

_The Dursleys tried to deny it but their son - who was marked to be at almost fourteen Stone at only age 6 and had to be removed as well - bragged about how they had 'locked the Freak up because only normal people were allowed outside'. According to the boy, Hadrian was made to do the housework every day and he'd only just gotten used to cooking breakfast when he was removed. Most meals he was not given any food and simply locked away until they had need of him again._

_Burns were found on his arms and his left hand had been through the most damage, seemingly because it was pressed against a hot burner to 'teach him a lesson on what happens when Freaks burn the food'._

_None of the psychiatric help ever produced any results, for Hadrian simply ignored his therapists or riled them up until they couldn't bare the sight of him without becoming aggressive. One was charged with abuse for slapping him across the face, to which his godfather gladly pressed suit against her._

Tom sat back, mind whirling. Hadrian Potter was an enigma. The boy seemed very calm and complacent, but easy to rile up. He was a Gryffindor, so that much was obvious.

Harry Potter seemed the kind to be a perfect submissive with how he avoided eye contact and blushed every two seconds over anything and everything. But given his past experiences, Tom had to consider.

Abuse victims usually never turned out well. Tom was a prime example.

But Tom was a very persuasive fellow. He was sure that if he couldn't find it in him to ignore Harry Potter, then he'd simply have to convince the beautiful boy instead.

He shifted in his chair, trousers unnaturally tight.

Thoughts of green eyes pervaded his mind for the rest of the day.

* * *

**A/N: The first is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**Check out my other Harrymort/Tomarry fics!**

**See ya! :D**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK**.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are little things in this chapter that you will need to keep in mind when reading further chapters. I hope you notice everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for anyone who noticed, this is a sort of redo of the Fifty Shades series. There will be less BDSM, as it doesn't really tickle my fancy. Anything BDSM that does appear will hopefully be correct. I swear, the writer was so wrong in her interpretation of a BDSM relationship and the only thing she got right was the contract.
> 
> I'm going along the general outline of the books but totally changing a lot of things. So many people loved the books and then so many people saw the movie without reading the books(because they heard good things about the books). You need to realize that the movies always leave out important information. Also, the casting in the movie was horrible. No one actually matched their descriptions even after the author changed the characters so they wouldn't mimic the Twilight characters(I did read Master of the Universe after all, I would know). The acting was atrocious. Overall, it was poorly done and the series isn't something that should be made into a movie trilogy. I only got through half the movie before I couldn't take it anymore.
> 
> I'm also shedding some light on the series as a whole, since so many condemn Christian Grey(who is a controlling ass, yes) but don't bother to get to know his character. Everything that happens in Tom's past, will be what actually happened to Christian in the Fifty Shades series.
> 
> If we can overlook/ignore/excuse/not care, Voldemort(a mass murderer) and the shit he pulled in life, order to pair him and Harry up, then we can open our eyes and understand what made an abused character, the way he is. There will be Tom feels later on. Yes, he is creepy now, and the more we delve in, the more you'll understand why.
> 
> There are sneak peeks at parts of Harry's past and what happened to our poor, 'fragile' muffin. Things will be expounded upon at a later date.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Harry Potter** (Why, God?! Why couldn't I?!) **or Fifty Shades of Grey** (I wouldn't want to.) **.**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**

**THANK YOU FOR THE OVERWHELMING SUPPORT OF THIS, BOTH ON AO3 AND FF.**

 

* * *

Harry's mobile rang, some sweet Adele pouring over the senses.

"Hello?"

"Harry! The man! The sexy god. The ever generous benefactor and silent business partner of ours!"

It was either Fred or George. He wasn't a 'generous benefactor' to anyone but them.

"What do you need?" asked the brunet.

"Ronniekins isn't able to come in today, could we impose upon you for a little assistance?"

"Sure."

It would give him something to do.

"Great! Bring your sexy self to the shop today and we can get working!"

"See you then."

Once the call ended, Harry decided to grab a shower. Technically, the twins kept their shop open always because they worked with a lot of people at varying times of the day. Ron's shift started a quarter before noon though, which gave Harry time to get showered and dressed.

"Ugh, Weasleys," groaned Draco.

"It's Fred and George," corrected Harry on instinct.

Drake waved him off. "While they are the most preferable, they are still Weasleys."

"Just because Aunt Cedrella left Phineas Malfoy for Septimus Weasley, doesn't mean they are a bad family."

"Potter, it is the principal of the thing. You wouldn't get it."

Seriously, he really didn't get it.

"Don't wear _that_!" came Drake's scandalised reprimand. Harry looked at himself in the mirror and didn't see anything wrong with his choice of outfit. An emerald green jumper over a white button down. The jumper had been made for him by Mrs. Weasley and had a silver H on the front.

"It's the Slytherin colours though," Harry said with a smile. "I was only two percent off from tying Slytherin you know."

"It's too big for you and it looks scruffy!"

Harry sent his friend a bland look and proceeded to tuck the bottom of the jumper into his black trousers. He then pulled on the bottom so it wasn't too tight and looked natural.

"A little better, but not by much."

The brunet rolled his green eyes and slipped his shoes on. "I am dressing for comfort, not a runway."

"You never know who is going to see you like that! The H looks ridiculous!"

"I don't care."

He fled before the blond could continue with his whinging.

* * *

"If we mix this and this, we'll get a sort of blood colour," said Fred.

George nodded, "And if we add it to this concoction that we made, it'll _smell_ like blood too."

"Blood has a scent?" Harry asked before he could properly think his question through.

The twins snorted, "It's smells and tastes like copper, so we just went with that."

Right, iron in the blood and all that tripe. Selling fake blood for their shop was just a new addition.

"I'm needed out front, see you at lunch."

Harry did Ron's shift. He also did it well. And not once did he receive an odd look for his jumper. That simply proved that Draco was too sensitive and too easily offended by everything.

Now while Harry was pretty good at pranks, he was not the one to go to when one was planning out a prank. So when a teen came it and began explaining his thoughts and the process he planned to go through, Harry had to fetch his friends to help him out. Besides, they knew their shop better than Harry did.

Harry went back to stocking the shelves and considering.

Once he graduated, he was going to be 'apprenticed' under Sirius so that he could learn the ropes.

Sirius owned his own business. It had come as a shock for his parents apparently. Sirius was considered the black sheep in his family and was not the favourite. Yet out of all the recent generation of Blacks, he was the most successful.

Sirius' mother had despised him and kicked him out of the manor when he was in his mid teens. Of course Sirius could have gone to any of their other family homes if he wanted, but Harry's father begged his parents to allow Sirius to stay with them. And so Sirius became an honorary Potter.

And it was Sirius who managed to convince his uncle Alphard to loan him some money. Lo' and behold, Sirius began a business. It was small. During his years at Hogwarts, he enlisted James' help, and the help of their friends Remus and Peter. And slowly, through charisma and good business, they managed to expand.

Now Sirius was just as well known as Riddle apparently was. Probably just as wealthy too.

And who should wish to grovel at the man's feet once he'd made such success for himself? None other than his mother and the passive father who did nothing for him in his childhood. Sirius repudiated them and they died alone, unhappy, and hated by everyone else in their family.

Except for a few hiccups here and there, Sirius flourished in his job. He was good with numbers and figures and had no problems of his own. Of course several years ago when Peter betrayed his friends to join Voldemort's gang, everyone had to go into hiding.

It was a shock that the murderer never tried to attack Marauder's Headquarters considering how he had gone after James. Of course it was revealed that it was for Peter's sake. Peter had always been jealous of James.

And when Lily Potter stood before him defiantly that night and then managed to escape with her son in tow, it became a personal mission for Voldemort.

For nearly five years, Lily and Harry Potter had dropped off the face of the earth, with only Sirius and Remus knowing where they lived. Harry lived in an isolated cottage in Tinworth, and never went further than the hedge guarding their home. He had no friends and had never been outside for longer than a few minutes.

Lily did her best to assure him that it was for a good reason and that eventually, the mass murderer would become too old and would no longer be a threat. That he simply had to be patient.

When Sirius adopted him after… _it_ had happened, Harry had been a little rebellious. Not to be trouble for his godfather, but to annoy the hell out of anyone who tried to talk to him about his _feelings_. Who tried to assure him that everything would be 'alright' and that he'd be okay.

He would not be okay. If being buried under a dying man and a roof wasn't bad enough, the things that man _said_!

Harry shivered at the memory. He never told anyone just what had transpired in those six hours he'd been alone in a broken house. His mother's body mere feet away and then to have a man slowly dying while on top of him. No one would understand and Harry had quickly become sick and tired of people trying to foist their ideas onto him.

If he hadn't been scarred by the murderer, his time with Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley surely made him worse. As a result, Harry had a strong dislike of lazy people. People who made others do their work for them and gave them no credit or appreciation. People like Vernon and Petunia.

Harry fondly remembered his first therapy session.

Harry sat on the stiff sofa in the waiting room of the office. The room was blue. Blue like a Robin's egg would be. But the furniture was gross and didn't match. He didn't like yellow. It reminded him of… them. It smelled of lavender too.

But he and Siri were waiting. His appointment was in two minutes or so the man had said. Harry didn't want to be there. He didn't have this 'stress' that everyone insisted he had. He wasn't 'traumatized'. In order to avoid trauma, the books said you had to avoid what caused it.

Well thinking of things he didn't want to think about would definitely bring him trauma and he didn't want it. Why did people think talking about feelings actually made things better? Because it really didn't.

The door opened, revealing an old man. Harry hated him already. The old man had a long beard and there was a sort of all-knowing thing about him that made the boy want to burn the beard while it was still attached.

He was surprised at himself. He'd never thought something so violent before. Maybe it was because he was forced to be there. Yeah, that was totally it.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't know how, but he'd sat in that office chair, not the proffered sofa that people laid on and proceeded to whinge about how unfair life was. He took the old man's chair, forcing the man to take the sofa instead.

He never answered any of the questions.

How are you today?

Do you know why you're here?

Can you tell me something about yourself?

Are you uncomfortable?

On a hunch, Harry took in the man's hand and calmly stated that he was married. Married to someone he didn't even love. That he was in love with someone else but they didn't love him in return. The old man's emotions very easily shown on his face and Harry had delighted in ripping apart his past and shoving it in his face that he'd been in a loveless marriage for years and that his wife was using him for money and that the person he'd been in love with had used him for his name.

Harry never went back to Albus Dumbledore again.

The news of the old man's heart attack hadn't affected him in the least, he remembered.

Harry was just as brutal with every other psychiatrist and not once had Sirius believed the wretched people when they claimed Hadrian to be a little monster. One woman even struck him, earning herself a lawsuit very quickly.

Harry didn't like that his words caused people to hurt themselves sometimes, but he wouldn't take any of it back because he hated them all and if they had just listened when he said he didn't want to do therapy, all of it could have been avoided.

The moment Harry was free, his life became easier. He did not spend much time thinking about his past. He tried not to think about things he hated, only bringing out those memories when he needed to remind himself of who he was and where he was going in life.

A person's experiences would always help shape who they were. There was a reason why his Slytherin and Gryffindor scores were nearly even.

While willing to defend what he cared about, he was also one to succumb to self-preservation very easily. Harry lashed out when threatened and had no problem tearing down those who bothered him, if they bothered him too much. And he would not stop until the threat was removed. He was very thorough.

Admittedly, Draco had torn down one particular person with the school paper, simply because Harry asked it of him. The brunet couldn't think of any better revenge and had to ask the Slytherin for help. It was debasing at times, but he'd gotten over it soon enough because Draco didn't ask unnecessary questions, too caught up in the amusement of his actions to really care.

Also, he never got in trouble because his godfather was the Headmaster. Draco was spectacular at pulling the innocent facade and Snape was just as good, though he didn't play innocent. He simply stared you down and made you question yourself until you felt stupid and wanted to flee. Harry had witnessed it many a time before.

Harry could be vindictive. He tried not to be but sometimes it was more fun to be an arsehole than it was to be nice. That was probably why he had such low scores on the Hufflepuff section. The Puffs were often 'the better man' in the scenario.

Harry placed the large box on the counter and had to stop and think. What had he been originally thinking about?

* * *

Draco placed the large tankard down in front of Harry, who gladly took his drink with cheer. The blond was busy sipping his glass of Firewhiskey, as he would not be so plebeian as to drink such a revolting concoction as Butterbeer.

Potter went at it with abandon however, making the blond's lip curl in a disgusted sneer. Why couldn't his taste buds simply tell him how gross that swill was? Why couldn't he realise that people such as they never consumed anything of such low quality?

Butterscotch. Yuck!

"So, Potter, I have finally finished the next edition of the paper. This is the third draft. If you okay it, this will be the one printed on Sunday morning and passed around Monday."

"Drake, I am about to get pissed and you're asking me to review something _now_?"

The brunet took the paper anyway and began to read it as he slowly sipping his drink. Draco enjoyed watching how his eyebrows told the story of his emotions. They furrowed and narrowed, drew high on his brow, and then went as straight as a line.

"You certainly did well in kissing his arse," commented the Black Heir.

Draco nodded. "I'm a Slytherin. Pandering to massive egos is something we're good at. Especially if it gets us near something we want."

"And what are _you_ getting out of this?"

"Possible business opportunity for my family, you never know. Riddle seemed rather taken with _you_ I'll admit. Maybe he'll offer some opportunities to you as well. He practically handed you a job and you refused."

"I wouldn't work for him even if I was bound to die of starvation," Harry sneered. "He's such a control freak that we'd always be fighting over who was in charge. I cannot handle overbearing people Drake."

While it was fun to tease Potter over his preferences, Draco wasn't so much of a dick that he couldn't understand his friend's plight. Harry had been abused. Whether he thought he was or not didn't matter, he'd suffered only a month of abuse but it was enough to make him skittish around people he didn't know and for him to detest when others were in control. It had lasting effects on his psyche and how he interacted with other people.

Despite the man's claims that he wasn't traumatised or even depressed, Draco knew a lie when he heard one. Or perhaps, he'd said it so many times, he'd convinced himself of it. Both were possible and it was still entirely true.

"It still doesn't change the fact that he seemed to have it bad for you."

"Ugh!"

Harry took a very large gulp of his Butterbeer then, wincing slightly. "Can we not talk about the creepy multi-millionaire for the rest of the evening?"

Draco decided that he could be the good friend this time and leave it be. He had tomorrow and every day after that after all.

"So Blaise told me that Lovegood got lost in the woods last Friday evening."

* * *

Harry grabbed a Freddo packet and tossed it in the trolley. He had end of the year exams to study for and studying always required some sort of food to pass the time. He planned to order a pizza while he was at it. Several bottles of Tizer to add and then perhaps some sugar for his tea.

When he wheeled the trolley around the corner, he nearly had a heart attack as he was confronted with the last person on earth he ever thought he would find at a small grocer's in Hogsmeade.

Tom Riddle was holding a small basket filled with bags of nacho crisps, looking all out of sorts even though he was only garbed in a pair of black slacks and a simple, black button down. His hair was perfectly coiffed to the side, the natural wave giving him an air of sophistication that did not belong in The Magic Neep of all places.

Harry blinked, realising that he just nearly ran over a multi-millionaire with his trolley and wondering if he would have been charged the bill it no doubt would have rung up at the hospital. Riddle seemed like the kind of person who would raise a fuss over his delicate self being trampled.

" _Hadrian_."

How the bloody hell dare he be so charming! Harry was seething internally.

"Tom," Harry murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the suave man stood only three feet away from him. And those cool eyes were watching him with an almost starved expression. Harry did not want to even begin to contemplate what such a look meant for him.

In fact, there was a lot about Riddle that he didn't want to acknowledge.

Tom's gaze trailed over Harry's collection of sweets and basically every unhealthy thing under the bloody sun. Distantly he wondered if maybe Riddle was questioning Harry's capability in keeping himself alive, but dismissed it. Why would Tom Riddle of all people care about whether or not Harry Potter was mentally sane and able to take care of himself?

Harry's trolley was full of very juvenile objects, he realised. Damn, he was like little a child!

"Having a party?"

"No. Gorging myself on sweets as I study for the upcoming exams. What brings you to Hogsmeade?"

_Please don't be me! Please, oh please, don't be me! Not me! Don't be any more of a creep than you already are!_

Harry fidgeted under the man's searching gaze. Surprisingly, Riddle's answer was not Harry related and briefly he wondered if maybe he was being unnecessarily paranoid in regards to Tom's life.

"I was visiting Horace Slughorn. Often does he have his little get togethers and every once in awhile I will visit in a nod of respect to him and his support of me during my school years."

Ah, yes, Slughorn had a little party today and that was where Draco was. He was fitting himself into the pockets of every high class twat that Slughorn had connections with.

Draco was just more goal oriented than Harry was. And more ambitious. That was the only reason Harry hadn't made it to Slytherin. He already knew that he was to take over Sirius' work and knew that he wouldn't have to do much in terms of job hunting or needing to survive like others his age did.

Harry was the laziest, hard working person he knew.

"I made a hasty retreat while I could."

The younger brunet stifled a snort because he had gone to a few of those functions in his time and knew very well how tedious they could be. He also was the sort to make up excuses just to leave early.

"Good work."

Riddle smirked, his pleasure practically _dripping_ from his nearly invisible pores. Smug bastard.

"I was able to meet Mr. Malfoy as well."

"I'm sorry if he came on too strong," Harry said quickly, knowing that sometimes Draco's personality was just too much for some people.

Riddle smirked. "Perhaps a little too strong, but he was tenacious and I find that to be admirable. I even agreed to do a photo shoot for him."

Harry's jaw dropped because there was no way that Draco was able to flatter someone like Tom Riddle into agreeing to a photo shoot. Tom agreed for a reason and Harry could feel his gut quivering at the thought. What was the aim of it?

"I hope you enjoy yourself," he finally replied, unable to formulate another sentence.

Tom's eyes glittered with emotion and he nodded. "I will."

It sounded like a promise.

Harry quickly made an excuse to leave and rolled himself to the self-checkout. He wanted to go home now!

Tom Riddle's laughter followed him all the way out the door.

* * *

"Potter, call Weaslette!"

Harry blinked, looking away from his textbook to find Draco standing beside him, hands fisted on his hips.

"Why? Don't you hate her?"

"She is not as annoying as Weasel is," said the blond. "Anyway, she's the only photographer I know who can drop what she's doing on such short notice."

"Why can't _you_ call her?"

"Because she's mad for you and not me, though I cannot understand why as I am simply too fabulous to ignore."

"Why do you need her?" asked the brunet as he sat up straighter.

"You and I need her for the photo shoot with Riddle.'

"WHAT?! Who said _I_ was coming along?!"

Draco waved a hand and said, "Who else can I trust to help me without making me look bad?"

"Okay, you _really_ need to stop the whole guilt trip/flatter thing because it's getting old!"

"But you still cave every time," grinned the Slytherin.

He did. Every bloody time.

This meant that he would have to see Riddle again. Could _that_ be why he had seemed so smug?

Harry shook himself. He really needed to stop assuming that everything the man did in his life revolved around some postgraduate student of his alma mater. Riddle had a job to do and it certainly didn't consist of following Harry James Potter around like a puppy.

"I hate you," Harry concluded.

"No you don't!" sang the blond, sauntering from the room, his pleasure written all over his face.

Git.

* * *

It was eight in the morning. Tom Riddle was fixing his tie as he pondered his actions.

He'd literally attended one of Slughorn's ridiculous parties simply so he'd have a legitimate reason to be in Hogsmeade. Tracking and then following Hadrian Potter's mobile had to be done on the sly. He knew where the boy was, all he needed was a reason to be there as well.

Slughorn was useful for once.

He'd found Hadrian Potter roaming the aisles of The Magic Neep, his trolley full of things that would make a child swoon. The younger man looked adorable and not at all capable of what Tom had read on his file.

Simple black trousers with a white button down and a green jumper worn over it. He was casual and comfortable and looked carefree. He also wasn't wearing glasses.

Tom's objective seemed to be more striking than ever once he was faced with such a specimen. Hadrian Potter would be the perfect sub, no doubt in Tom's mind.

And to know that he was about to see his darling once again, all because of a chance meeting with Draco Malfoy of all people, made him beam. Tom was going to give the blond a photo shoot and would make sure that neither he nor dear Hadrian would forget about it.

When Tom reached the desired location that morning, he found both Hadrian and Malfoy, as well as a young, red haired woman who was giving Tom's soon-to-be-lover, the eye. A very suggestive eye that was thankfully making Hadrian visibly uncomfortable.

Malfoy was suave as he introduced Tom to Ms. Ginevra Weasley. Within seconds, Tom could easily tell that the two hated each other and that the only thing either had in common was Hadrian. Poor Hadrian was standing by, looking completely unprepared for what they were about to do.

He was holding a cuppa and was sipping it every few seconds.

Tom allowed himself to be directed, silently marvelling at how Hadrian could handle both the blond and the redhead at once. Tom found them both to be incredibly annoying and only the sight of a beguiled brunet made him feel better.

At least Tom looked good.

* * *

Harry couldn't have been more relieved when the photo shoot ended. He simply had to stand there and comment every now and then, but the entire process was aggravating. Riddle unnerved him and Draco and Ginny murdering each other with only their eyes was beginning to get old.

"Alright! I think we can wrap it up now," said Ginny as she flipped through the photos she had taken.

Harry, being the ever helpful person that he was, offered the man a bottle of water.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, not really sure of what models felt like when behind a camera.

"It was a… refreshing experience," answered Riddle, uncapping the bottle and taking a long drink that looked far too sexual.

Harry flushed and looked away because how could he be thinking such things about such a creepy person?

"Well, thanks for catering to Draco's bossiness. I'm sure that karma is working in your favour today."

Trying to remain positive when you are feeling off is hard, Harry realised.

"Indeed."

Draco came over to give his final, thankful speech. Harry turned away a bit to sip his coffee. Black, just like his soul. The only way he liked it.

After a moment, he felt a tapping on his right shoulder and turned to find Tom Riddle standing very much in his personal space and looking not at all uncomfortable to be there. Harry blinked in shock and retreated a step, feeling his hackles rise only slightly.

"Yes, Tom?"

The satisfaction burning in the man's cool, green eyes made the Gryffindor shiver.

"Would you care to go for some lunch with me? I am quite famished and it seems as if you are as well."

His smile was charming and Harry wondered just what the man was getting at. But also… free food.

Harry loved food. He loved it even more when he didn't have to pay for it.

"Where would we go?" he asked, trying to ascertain Riddle's tastes and hoping beyond all hope that he didn't choose some grossly expensive eatery.

"I was thinking the Three Broomsticks."

Harry's surprise must have been visible, because Riddle laughed and said, "I much prefer Madam Rosmerta to Madam Puddifoot."

The younger brunet flushed a rosy red and looked away. Yes, he wouldn't want Riddle to take him to _that_ restaurant. The garish, pink decorations and the lace festooning every available inch of the walls were a turn off in the worst of ways.

"Yeah, I appreciate the thoughtfulness in your choice."

* * *

Harry fidgeted in his seat a little as they sat in a secluded corner of the room. Rosmerta hadn't even blinked when she saw them. She simply offered them the most secret, out of the way seat she had, which was smaller in size than the average booth and was tucked into a corner that looked empty until you went and looked yourself.

The side of the wall had been made a little deeper in, setting the seats further into the wall and away from the eyes of anyone in the main room.

A nice little haven tucked away.

"I never knew this was here."

"She has several all around the room," explained Tom, motioning to the wall at his right side. "This will pull away to reveal one of the wait staff with our food. You'd be surprised how many people graduate from Hogwarts and become famous. These are for those who want the nostalgia without the roaring crowds."

Rosmerta thought of everything. No wonder everyone liked her. And no, not everything was about how beautiful she was. Though she _was_ very pretty.

"So how have your exams been going?"

"Ugh!"

It came out before he could stop himself, but when Riddle only raised a brow in interest, Harry decided that it couldn't hurt to explain.

"So there is this girl in the school. She is considered one of the smartest students to have ever come to Hogwarts and has been top of the year ever since she began her schooling. She actually skipped a year because the coursework wasn't challenging enough for her. She's also going for a lot of majors.

Overachiever to the maximum. Generally she's nice, but the moment someone else does better than her in anything, they must have cheated somehow. It doesn't matter what it is. They cheated."

Harry rolled his eyes at the thought.

"So while she overall does the best out of everyone, I am actually better than her at Physical Education and Marketing. Draco beat her at International Business - mainly because he speaks like four languages and is pretty damn suave when he needs to be. She doesn't like that.

She brought her complaints to Headmaster Snape, who then had to bring in the Board, and the professors involved, and administer another version of the test. Lo' and behold, we got better scores the second time and _still_ beat her. It was ridiculous."

It felt good to vent about the situation to someone who didn't know a thing about it. And Tom Riddle was sitting primly, with his finger linked atop the table. He was looking at Harry as if everything he had to say was simply the most interesting bit of news the man had ever gotten.

The wall to Harry's left slid open - just as Tom said it would - to reveal Madam Rosmerta herself. "What can I get you dears?" she asked with a perky smile.

Tom looked to Harry first and the student mumbled a need for a protein scramble and some pumpkin juice. Tom ordered a glass of Firewhiskey and a salad.

She sent them a wink and slid the wood back into place.

"I don't think liquor in the middle of the day will do you some good," Harry murmured, feeling awkward in the newfound silence between them.

"I firmly believe that alcohol is a sort of beverage that can be taken at any time. Discretion would be advised, however. Also, I do not have any work to do today, so I can afford to stretch a little."

And for some reason, Tom Riddle decided that that he would indulge some university students for his day off apparently. Why?

_Maybe he's creeping on me! Maybe he's stalking my every move and I don't even know it! Maybe he's somehow attached something to me so he'll know where I am every minute of every day!_

Harry dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. Why would a multi-millionaire want to stalk him? He was boring and completely uninteresting. Riddle most likely had better things to do in life.

But why was Harry's paranoia working so strongly?

"So what do you plan to do once you've finished with Hogwarts?" asked Riddle, bringing his elbows to the table in order to rest his chin on his linked fingers.

"Work with my godfather," Harry replied instantly, not finding the questions to be anything original or even invasive. It was a normal question that he was asked at _least_ twice a week.

" _That_ was why you denied my offer."

"Yeah, not that I'm not grateful or anything!" he rushed to assure the man.

He received a toothy smile. Riddle's incisors were all straight and perfect. No one had the right to be that attractive. No one.

"I understand. It's refreshing to know that you weren't trying to avoid me."

Actually, that _was_ what he had been trying to do. But Riddle was an older and more terrifying version of Draco and offending the man didn't seem to be a good idea. So Harry simply let him think what he wanted to think, all so Harry would remain innocent in his eyes.

Harry was not above playing on his appearance in order to get what he wanted. If he seemed a little naive and adorable, he'd go with it if the time was right.

"Especially since I really want to get to know you, Hadrian."

Harry was imagining that breathiness to Riddle's voice, wasn't he?

Still, imagination or not, he was unable to stop himself from blushing. With a scowl, the Gryffindor looked away in order to regain his bearings. Riddle's good looks made it difficult to think straight.

Thankfully, Madam Rosmerta chose that moment to deliver their food and drinks together. She sent them another playful wink and disappeared behind the wall.

Tom waved his hand with a flourish and they both began their meal. Harry wished he'd ordered some treacle tart along with his food. Or course he could just go to Honeydukes later on and get some sweets if he was really in the need for some.

He was unhealthy. Gleefully so. Of course seeing the man that could put gods to shame, eating only a salad, made him feel like a glutton. Harry covertly patted his belly, noting that it was indeed flat despite the fact that he was eating a huge bowl of meat and only meat, and that he was notorious for consuming vast amounts of sugar. Perhaps it was just his biology that allowed him to eat so much and gain so little.

"Are you well?"

Harry looked up again, finding Tom watching him curiously.

"You look worried," the man verified.

"Your healthy meal choices put me to shame," admitted the younger brunet with a frown. "Not that I would even stop eating the way I eat just because I'm ashamed."

He liked food and he was not going to stop simply because some people didn't agree, or because other's diet choices made him look bad.

Harry was his own man, damn it!

"Are you intimidated by me, Hadrian?" Riddle asked, abandoning his cutlery in order to stare down his dining companion.

"Very much so," Harry nodded without batting a lash. He then sent the man an unimpressed look and added, "And don't try to pull the surprise over it, you _like_ that you make people uncomfortable. I'd have to call you a liar if you denied it. And I don't like people who lie over ridiculously obvious things, Tom."

"You are remarkable." The fondness in his tone put Harry off for a second, making him unsure of why Riddle was looking like he'd just received the best gift one could imagine.

"I'm flattered that you would pay me so much attention, Hadrian."

With a snort, Harry returned to his food. "Trust me, I don't. You're just a more extreme version of Draco, nothing more, Riddle."

Riddle's eyes narrowed and Harry knew that he had just angered the man as well as made the situation awkward again.

His heart pounded with uncertainty even as he tried to affect a blase demeanour.

Things were strange.

* * *

On the walk back to the studio, Riddle randomly asked, "So is Ms. Weasley your girlfriend?"

Harry blanched and shook his head repeatedly because Ginny was not his type. She looked far too much like his mum had for him to ever try anything of the sort with her.

"God, no!"

"Mr. Malfoy perhaps?"

"Ew! He's a distant cousin, _no_!"

Though the man cracked a smile, his mood didn't seem to lighten all too much.

Harry sighed for the millionth time since he met the man and wished he could get a free pass out of this business.

Something grabbed a hold of his wrist and jerked him to the side in time for him to miss being hit by a speeding lorry. Harry was aware of many things in that split second. One, he and Riddle were pressed up against one another so closely, he could feel the man's defined muscles. Two, Riddle smelled unbearably fantastic. Three, his heart was pounding so hard, the sound drowned out anything else. And four, he and Riddle were bloody touching each other!

Harry did not like touching people unless he initiated the contact first and foremost.

The young man wiggled around until he freed himself from Riddle's strange and sudden embrace.

"Thanks," he mumbled, pressing a hand to his heart and trying to calm himself down.

Riddle's mouth was moving, but Harry couldn't hear what he was saying. All he could focus on was the beating of his own heart and the fact that he was hyperventilating.

Why was he breathing so hard? Was he having a panic attack? Another one?

Fuck!

Riddle's hand was suddenly in his face and Harry blinked, seeing a mobile. A blue dot was in the center of a black screen and it slowly began to change colours and move around. Harry's eyes trailed after it, watching as it began to multiply. The various dots started flickering rapidly and swirling around the edges of the screen.

Slowly, they converged into a small flower and then exploded in a showering of dots that formed a tiny house. From that house, the dots spread out and twinkled some more before gathering up in a line, much like the game, Snake.

Harry followed the snake around the screen until the mobile was pulled away to reveal Riddle, looking worried. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked.

Harry nodded, looking around to realise that he and Riddle were standing in a side alley off the main road in Hogsmeade.

"You were panicking. It's an app made specifically to lull the panicked into calm once more."

Harry flushed, realising that he very nearly broke down in front of Tom Riddle of all people.

"Thanks," he said again, unable to look the man in the eye.

"Are you well enough to continue?"

"Yeah."

Distantly, Harry wondered just why Tom Riddle had such an app on his phone at all.

* * *

Harry joined up with Draco once again and waved farewell to Riddle, though he wasn't even looking at the man when he did so. Distantly, he also noticed the big, burly man who followed Riddle from the establishment.

"His personal driver/bodyguard," Draco said. "He looked really familiar but I value my life more than my curiosity so I didn't ask."

"Oh."

Of course they had walked to the studio since their flat was only five blocks away. When they were a good distance from the building, Draco suddenly said, "It's good fortune that Riddle up and decided to just randomly come to Slughorn's party."

Harry froze in the middle of the pavement. "I thought Sluggy throws parties all the time?"

Draco snorted, "Yeah, but Riddle hasn't attended one in like six years, apparently. Don't know why he suddenly wanted to, but I am glad for it. Those photos are going to make me look better!"

Harry was left with a feeling of cold dread creeping up his spine and boiling in his stomach. Riddle never went to Slughorn's parties. Conveniently he went and left early, only to run into Harry minutes later.

Riddle couldn't have done it just to follow Harry.

Could he?

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**Check out my other Tomarry/Harymort fics.**

**I joined the QLFC this season, so my updates may be sporadic.**

**See ya! :D**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad. Character development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:
> 
> So the bare basics behind this is that Christian Grey was the son of a prostitute who got pregnant. Her pimp regularly abused her and Christian. She was a drug addict who committed suicide by overdosing herself, leaving 4 year old Christian alone in a locked room, with her dead body, for 4 days before anyone found them.
> 
> I used this and expounded on it for the fic. You might get a little sad. Something like that can deeply affect someone.

**A/N: Hello, people!**

**I don't own Harry Potter( _Why, God? WHY?!_ ) or Fifty Shades of Grey( _I don't want to._ ).**

**I have no beta.**

**ENJOY!**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLONFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**

 

* * *

**~.O.~1992~.O.~**

_It was dark in the room. Tom couldn't reach the light and there was nothing for him to use. Mummy wasn't waking up either._

_He was hungry and tired. His arms hurt a lot. **The man** had grabbed him and hit him. Mummy only cried. She didn't try to stop him. She never did anything but what **the man** told her to do._

_Tom was supposed to do what **the man** said too. He didn't like **the man**. But **the man** had hit mummy with his bottles. He kept hitting and hitting and when Tom tried to make him stop, he punched Tom in the face._

_Tom's cheek hurt a lot._

_Tom was always being hurt by **the man**. And mummy was always gone. Why did mummy have to go away all the time? Why did she always come back hurt? Why did she leave him with **the man**?_

_Their room was small. No bed. No sofa. No food. No light._

_Mummy's cigarette stubs were on the floor. They made the room smell yucky. The glass bowl was empty. Mummy had 'smoked' the rest of her green stuff long ago. She wouldn't let him touch it. But mummy wasn't awake right now._

_But Tom was too hungry to think about the clear bowl with the weird handles. He was hungry._

_He hadn't eaten in a long time. From the only window in the room, he'd seen three sunrises since the last time he ate. Mummy hadn't moved the whole time either. He didn't know what to do._

_Every other time she wouldn't move, he only had to tap her face a few times. But she wasn't moving this time and she was really cold._

_He put their only blanket on her, hoping that maybe she'd get warm again._

_**The man** had locked them in. He always locked them in. 'So they wouldn't run'. But Tom was hungry._

_He couldn't see in the dark, but he'd managed to stumble his way to the door, little fists banging against the old wood._

_"Hewwo?!" he shouted._

_He lost interest after several minutes of quiet. No one was outside the door._

_Tom stumbled back to mummy, tripping over the empty bottle of white pellets that mummy had taken. The bottle had been full he remembered. But mummy took all of them before she went to bed. She said they would 'make the pain go away'. She wanted the bruises from **the man** to go away._

_Tom wanted to take some too, but she said he was too little. There were no more left._

_Tom didn't have any pellets to take his pain away._

_He was hungry. **The man** hadn't come by with food yet. Sometimes they got takeaway from the Thai place down the street, but nothing had come yet._

_Tom sighed, unsure of what was going on. Their room had nothing to use. If he wanted to see out the window he would have to step on mummy but that would be rude. Tom didn't want to be rude._

_'You little bastard! I'll beat the attitude out of you!'_

_Tom shuddered at the memory of **the man** and what he did to rude people. Tom was never rude again, even when **the man** said he was._

_Tom also didn't like the word **the man** called him. He never called Tom by name and Tom hated the other word. It was mean. Mummy never stopped him though._

_Sometimes Tom wondered if mummy didn't care._

_"Mummy."_

_She wasn't waking up._

_Tom was hungry!_

_Growing boys and girls were supposed to eat everyday in order to be 'healthy'. Tom wasn't healthy! What if **the man** came and hit him again?! His tummy was making noises! It hurt too._

_He whimpered and stuffed himself into the far corner. It was scary in the dark. He was hungry. He was tired. His face and arms hurt._

_"Mummy," he tried once more, a sniffle accenting his words._

_Nothing._

_Maybe they'd be stuck in the darkness forever!_

_Tom didn't like the dark. Dark meant he couldn't see and what if he got hurt? What if someone hurt him and he couldn't see them?_

_Tom wrapped his thin arms around his knees and began to rock back and forth. It made him feel better. Mummy used to rock him in her arms, but she stopped when **the man** said to._

_**The man** ruined everything._

_Tom hated him._

_He hated how he took mummy's money and never gave it back. He hated how mummy had to go date boys all night. He hated how mummy never fought back. He hated how mean mummy's 'clients' were to her._

_He hated how no one cared._

_Tom sniffled again, feeling like he was going to cry._

_He hated the dark, cold room._

_Tom hated everything._

**~.O.~1992~.O.~**

_Someone was banging on the door. Tom pulled his hands over his tiny ears because the noise was too much. Tom didn't like noise._

_**The man** would make a lot of noise when he was yelling. Tom didn't like yelling and he didn't like noise._

_He scuttled forward, trying to shake mummy awake. Mummy was still sleeping though._

_The banging on the door wouldn't stop. Tom could see the light through the window. The sun was out, so it was daytime. The fourth time he'd seen the sun since mummy went to bed._

_The banging kept on._

_Shouting came too. Tom was sure **the man** was back. If mummy wasn't awake when **the man** came in, she and Tom would be in trouble._

_Tom set to trying to shake her awake again, but she wouldn't move._

_Scared and unsure, Tom fled to the corner near the door. If **the man** didn't look, he wouldn't see Tom. Tom didn't want to be seen._

_Crouching down, Tom put his hands over his ears again and closed his eyes. Slowly, he rocked back and forth, even as the banging grew louder and louder, the voices raising higher and higher._

_Tom flinched when the door burst open and slammed into the wall. Several men walked in, holding guns, just like **the man** had. Tom shivered and shrank into the wall, wishing he could disappear. Wishing they couldn't see him._

_With all the loud noise, mummy still wasn't moving._

_They saw him! He looked around frantically, trying to find something to hide behind, but the room was empty._

_The men came closer, all of them talking at the same time. They sounded angry and demanding. They wanted him to speak but he couldn't when they were going to hurt him with their guns!_

_He saw a lady enter the room behind the men, and she even smacked one of them upside the head._

_"Back away from him! Obviously he doesn't want to talk when weapons are being shoved in his face!"_

_She made the men go away. They all left the room, leaving Tom and the lady and mummy alone._

_The lady sat on the floor, so Tom could see her better. She had dark hair like Tom and mummy had, and she had pretty green eyes. She looked nice. Nicer than even mummy did._

_"Hello," she said with a small wave of her hand. "I'm Mary. What's your name, little man?"_

_Tom watched her hands just to be sure. She was a stranger. "Tom," he murmured._

_The smile was bigger. "Nice to meet you, Tom."_

_He gave a wave of the hand, still bunching himself into the corner._

_"Can you tell me where your parents are?"_

_Tom was confused. He'd never heard that word before._

_"Your mum, maybe?" Mary asked._

_Tom pointed to mummy. Mary looked back, her smile leaving her face._

_"Can you tell me about your dad?"_

_Tom shook his head. "No daddy, jus' mummy."_

_"Oh. Well, I only have a mummy too, so it's okay." She was smiling again, though not as brightly._

_"Do you know your mummy's name?"_

_"Merrrrope Gaunt," said Tom, stumbling a little over his mummy's name. It was hard to say out loud. Tom was good at saying things in his head though._

_"How long has your mummy been asleep? Is she sick?"_

_Tom looked at the window again and then at the empty bottle. "Mummy was hurt, so s'e took pewwets to make da pain go 'way. Da sun has come up four times, but mummy still sweeps."_

_"Pellets? From the white bottle?" Mary asked, pointing to be sure._

_Tom nodded._

_"Does your mummy take them a lot?"_

_"All da time, but s'e took all of dem dis time. Da whole bottle!"_

_"Did she get hurt? I see some bruises on both of you."_

_Tom rubbed his arms. " **Da man** hurt us, but mummy don' stop him. S'e scawed of him."_

_"Can you tell me the man's name, Tom?"_

_Tom shook his head. "Mummy just says 'sir'."_

_Mary frowned and looked back to mummy. "Do you know what he looks like?"_

_Tom nodded, raising his hands to the ceiling to gesture just how big the man was. "He almos' as tall as da door. Big bwue eyes and bwown hair. But his stin is like- like yours."_

_Mary's skin was like caramel. He'd only seen it once, but he knew the colour._

_"Was there hair on his face?"_

_Tom shook his head._

_"How often did you see him?"_

_"Ev'wy day. He takes mummy out and would watch me until s'e came back. He den takes her money fwom her date and gets us food fwom da Thai place or da corner s'op. He den wocks us in for da night."_

_"When did you last see him, Tom?" Mary asked, looking more sad the more he spoke._

_"Jus' before mummy took da pewwets. He hit us wit' her stinky bottle. He wocked us in adain."_

_"Does your mummy drink from bottles like that a lot?"_

_Tom nodded. "All da time. She also puts da stuff in her bowl and den uses **da man's** fire to burn it. S'e won't wet me move when s'e does it 'cause da smoke will hurt me."_

_"Thank you for telling me this, Tom. I know you must be scared and worried, right?"_

_He nodded._

_"And maybe a bit hungry?"_

_He tummy growled its agreement, making both he and Mary giggle._

_"Well, how about I take you to get some food?"_

_"Wha' 'bout mummy?"_

_"My friends are going to try to wake her up, okay?"_

_Tom eyed the hand she held out to him, letting him decide if he wanted to go with her or not._

_Food._

_Tom took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. She then placed a warm hand on his back and guided him toward the door, blocking mummy from his view._

_"Let's get you some food, little man."_

**~.O.~**

Tom shot out of bed, heart pounding erratically in his chest. He'd had the dream again. That bloody dream was going to haunt him for the rest of his life!

He reached out, feeling his fingers close over his mobile. Pressing the button, Tom unlocked it quickly and pressed the button for the panic app.

It was always something different each time it was activated. This time he was looking at a rainbow wave that was fluctuating up and down at a smooth rhythm. It was like how the waves of the ocean reached out to the sandy shore. Back and forth.

It was calming. Tom's breathing had returned to normal and he was finally able to think straight.

There was no way he was going back to sleep. Not after… the dream.

Tom hoisted himself from the mound of pillows and staggered from the room. In the lounge, he threw himself across the sofa and reached for the remote. Perhaps he could find something to keep his mind occupied until he had to go for his run. Something interesting to watch until he had to face the day.

It was three in the morning after all.

* * *

Harry stretched out on the sofa. It was over. The exams had finished and he no longer had to worry about writing papers and listening to lectures!

"Potter, this is no time to relax. We are going out tonight and I cannot be seen with you if you look like a ruffian!"

And then Drake just had to come and ruin it all.

"Then I shouldn't come," decided the brunet, with a yawn. He turned over, fully prepared to nap.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Harry resigned himself to being manhandled like a bloody doll as Drake dragged him back to his bedroom and began rifling through the brunet's wardrobe in an attempt to find a proper shirt for whatever he had in mind.

"Why do I have to go?"

"Because, like the nerd you are, you went and studied for hours and hours without ceasing and now that you've passed all your exams, you have a lot of time on your hands. Which means you are coming with me to guard me from the philanderers and those who would get too fresh."

"I can't believe you would refer to people like that. It's obvious you aren't gay, I know, but just because a guy shows interest in you, doesn't mean he is a potential molester."

"You showed interest once and still didn't get as personal with me as some of the men I have dealt with. Though I can't blame them for their exceptional taste mind you, but when I say I'm not gay, not interested in men, and that any dicks other than my own don't interest me, they should know to back off lest they suffer a broken nose."

Harry was like a bodyguard for the blond. When people tried hitting Draco up for his number or even his name, Harry would casually steal them away and lead them on a merry game of confusion, dumping them somewhere else and leaving them to figure out what happened all on their own.

**Ding dong.**

Both of their heads snapped toward the bedroom door.

"Potter, make yourself useful since you aren't busy."

With a groan, Harry forced himself to answer the door.

The man on the other side was holding a large box. He was dressed in a blue and black uniform. "Harry Potter?" he asked.

"What can I do for you?"

"This is for you."

The man passed the box over and tipped his hat, before leaving quickly.

Harry grunted at the size of the box and struggled to bring it inside before he dropped. Of course Draco had heard the commotion and came to investigate.

"What is that and who is it from?"

"No idea."

"Well, let's open it!" Draco grabbed a pen off the coffee table and stabbed the point into the tape, tearing it to the side to open the box. With a great heave, the blond managed to open the two flaps, allowing both to peer inside.

"Is that a Snitch?"

Inside the box, covered in Styrofoam on every side, was a palm sized, golden Snitch, with Harry's initials engraved in the side.

"A note!" Drake exclaimed, grabbed a piece of paper hidden between the foam and the box.

" _Congratulations on your consecutive victory of six years, Hadrian.-TMR._ "

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Bloody hell, Tom Riddle sent you a golden Snitch. Made of real gold!"

"How did he know that I do Quidditch though?"

"You have won Gryffindor every Quidditch game since you came to Hogwarts. There are plaques dedicated to you in the Trophy Room. Maybe he visited the room after stopping at Slughorn's party."

Quidditch was a very demanding sport. In each team there were seven players. Three Chasers, who handled the Quaffle back and forth and tried to get the special ball through one of the three hoops on the opposing team's side. There were two Beaters to a team, and they were charged with bludgeoning the opposing team's players, with their bats and the Bludgers. The Bludgers were hard and hurt if they connected. A Keeper to each team to defend their own hoops. And finally, one Seeker.

Harry was a Seeker. In recent years, with the advancement of technology, someone decided to add another part into the game to make it more interesting. The Seeker and Snitch came along when someone came up with the idea of a small, remote controlled, flying ball, that had to be caught and could earn the team who caught it an extra one hundred and fifty points, plus end the game.

The idea was widely accepted and everyone adored the game.

Harry was considered the best Seeker to have graced Hogwarts since Quidditch had started.

Sports like Quidditch were very physically demanding, because the pitch was covered in sand and the players had to use bicycles. Not only that, but while some players had to beat balls in the directions of other players, and some had to peddle while tossing a ball back and forth, there were the Seekers who had to find the remote controlled Snitch.

It was a vigorous game, but thankfully it only lasted around an hour to two.

So Harry had never said anything about it to Riddle, so how had the man known?

And it was kind of creepy.

"I can't accept this." Harry murmured, putting the Snitch back in the box. "I really don't feel comfortable with it."

"But it's already been engraved with your name. What's he going to do with it? Keep it by his bed? Caress it when he thinks of you? Keep it and save yourself the mental anguish from what I just said."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Aren't we supposed to be getting ready?"

"Yes! Come, Potter! I have to transform you!"

All thoughts of the ball in the box, vanished form his mind as Drake put him through a mini fashion show all to prepare for their evening out.

* * *

Tom Riddle hated certain people with a burning passion. Day in and day out he had to deal with some people who just did not fit the bill for his company.

Just today he had to let go(fire) an employee all because she could not learn to stop twitching. The twitching had caused her to drop things all the time, spill drinks, and make her so nervous she forgot everything she was doing.

He needed efficient worker and if she had some health problem she honestly could not control, she should not be working in a place that demands near physical perfection in everything.

A month into her job and she was still nervous when he appeared within her line of sight? No. Just no. He really could afford to keep her around, especially after having given her two notices and her not even putting in the effort. She had a clean bill of health, there was no reason for this.

People should not try to go beyond their capabilities if they have no self control. He believed firmly in remaining where you are when you are not fully qualified to move on. Even Tom had to wait at certain points in his life until he was in control and was capable.

It was a mere fact of life.

The man sighed, once again wishing that he could just go and drink some liquor. Something along the lines of Firewhiskey perhaps.

He wasn't even in London at the moment, so he couldn't just go back to work. Not that he really wanted to. A personal day for just himself would be lovely. He could sleep the whole day and not give a fuck about what was going on in anyone else's life. Not that he gave a fuck about anyone else to begin with.

_'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it,_   
_Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it,_   
_Sticks and stones may break my bones,_   
_But chains and whips excite me!_

He had only set that ringtone for one person and he had to wonder for just a split second, why Hadrian Potter was calling him. Still, Tom wasn't going to pass this chance up. Not for anything in the world.

Tom grabbed the mobile.

"Hello?"

Loud and slightly incoherent music blasted through his speaker at an alarming rate. Tom had to pull the device away from his ear to save himself the trouble it would no doubt cause his ears.

"Tom?"

Yes, he was definitely being called by Harry Potter. Tom definitely had the boy's number - he'd gotten the the background check done after all - but how did Harry acquire his number?

"Toooooom!" Harry drew out the older man's name. "Professor Slughorn gave me your mobile number when I asked!"

Harry was shouting loudly and it was still difficult to hear him. Also… was Tom imagining the slow slur to the boy's words?

"Hadrian, are you inebriated?"

There was a snort. "Why do you always have to call me that? No one eeeeeever calls me that!"

"Because I prefer it. Now answer the question. Have you been consuming any alcohol? Where are you?"

"Why did you send me the Snitch thing? What did you think I was going to be doing with it? Where did you learn about it? Why did it have to be in bloody gold?"

"Hadrian, answer my question! Have you drunk any alcohol?"

"A pint."

He was a lightweight?

"Or seven."

Oh, bloody hell.

"Some shots of some udder ting too. Ugh!"

"Hadrian!"

"I don't want the gold ball. You haveta take it back, Tom. Haveta. I'm tired. Glad we had dis talk, Tom."

"No, Hadrian, do not hang up!" Tom ordered.

"You're such a control freak and you bug me. Sod off."

The line went dead.

Tom cursed and stood to grab his coat. Tom was always the one to have the last word. He was not about to be outdone by an inebriated boy, no matter if Tom was attracted to him or not.

It was a good thing he was tracking Harry's mobile.

"Selwyn, come along," he ordered.

It was time to retrieve his errant soon-to-be-lover before something happened to him.

* * *

Harry sighed, feeling much better now that his bladder had been relieved. But now he was also kind of dizzy. And his mouth was really dry.

He wanted some water.

The music was pounding so loud he felt like his head would split open. To make everything worse, he had just called Tom Riddle while pissed off his gourd, and made an arse of himself.

"Harry!"

Ugh! Everything somehow had just gotten worse.

Ginny was clinging to his side, he did not see her appear but she was suddenly there. And she was pushing her breasts against his arm. Now while Harry liked breasts, he wasn't fond of touching.

Harry did not like to be touched without permission. It was an issue of his and he would most likely never get over it. Ginny also _knew_ that Harry didn't like to be touched.

Harry tried to push her away, but he swayed on the spot. Ginny's tight grip on his arm was the only thing keeping him from colliding with the floor.

"Harry, want to come back to my place?" she asked, her voice much lower than before.

Harry shook his head. "Noooo. Let go, Ginny."

She didn't. This was why being around her unnerved him so much. She couldn't take no for an answer. It was one thing to be headstrong and independent, it was another to be rude and ignore people's feelings.

"Come on, Harry. I know you like me," she cooed, her voice beginning to really grate on his nerves.

Harry sighed and yanked at his arm in an attempt to extricate himself from her grip. "Ginny, I don't want to have any kind of sexual relations with you. Now please let go!"

He hadn't seen it coming. His vision was too blurry to take notice of the hand.

The slap was quick and sharp, leaving a burning sting on his cheek.

"So you've been leading me on this whole time!" she screeched, much to his irritation.

"I haven't lead you on to anywhere. I don't like you in that way and have never once made any move on you. Hell, I made a move on Fred and George _in front_ of you."

This time he did see the hand, but before it could connect, Ginny's wrist was caught in a pale hand, causing both to look over at the intruder.

Tom Riddle stood beside Harry, eyes narrowed on the ginger.

"I would very much like to know just what you think you are doing, Miss Weasley."

Harry shivered, because there was something in Riddle's voice that unnerved him. Specifically, his obsessive and controlling behavior was coming out incredibly strong at the moment. So powerful, Ginny had actually flinched away from him, her eyes blowing wide.

"I think it would be best for everyone if you were to take your leave," Riddle suggested - more like ordered - his bodyguard popping up on Harry's other side, boxing he and Ginny in between the two men.

Ginny stuttered some words out and fled, not even looking at Harry as she did so.

"Hadrian."

His gaze swung over to land on Riddle. "Yeah?"

"You need to go home now, you are much too inebriated to stay any longer."

"I came with Drake," was Harry's feeble protest.

"We can take you back home."

That seemed to sober Harry up just a bit. He didn't want Riddle knowing where he lived! Except… he probably already knew where Harry lived if he sent that stupid Snitch in the post! But Harry didn't want the man in his flat. God forbid something were to catch his eye!

"I can wait for Drake."

"Nonsense, you need to go home and get some rest. Come. Selwyn will inform Mr. Malfoy of your departure."

Tom made a sweeping gesture with his arm which obviously meant that Harry was to lead the way. While still annoyed at being ordered around - even though it was for his own good - he took quick note of how Riddle did not grab him and try to drag him along.

In the end, he was respecting Harry's personal space, probably having noticed that Harry's disliked being touched without consent. He was also leaving the decision ultimately up to Harry. If Harry decided to go with the man, then it was of his own choice, though his ability to consent might be slightly impaired by the raging alcohol in his system.

He was feeling nauseated once and again, and gave a nod. He wanted to go and bundle himself up. He was also never drinking to excess again, especially if it would always end up with him making a stupid decision in calling Tom Riddle of all people and actually worrying the man enough to force him to come from wherever the bloody hell he'd spawned, just to help.

Riddle did not walk behind him. He walked right beside Harry, making the Gryffindor less nervous. He did not like people walking behind him, because it left him vulnerable to anything.

Riddle lead him to a fancy vehicle that he could not fully make out in the darkness. It was black and shiny against the lights outside the club.

"Of all the places I thought you'd go to to unwind, I did not think Crystal Balls would be one of them."

Harry flushed, realizing the establishment he had been in. So he'd gone to an all-inclusive strip club. So what? Harry liked to look without feeling like a creep. He also sometimes availed himself of their hospitality, when it was on his own terms.

There were limits and so long as they were observed, things went alright.

He stuck his nose up as he waited for Riddle to unlock the car.

"I like it there! They accept nineteen year olds and under."

Riddle sent him a mischievous smirk that made his belly flop. Damn the man for being attractive.

Harry was about to slide into the back seat, when a wave of nausea washed over him. Turning abruptly, he vomited the contents of his stomach, onto the finely polished shoes of the man who was to escort him home.

With even looking up, Harry murmured a low, "Oops."

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle was impressed with his patience. Someone had literally ruined his Prada shoes and he hadn't even reacted beyond patting them on the back.

Though the fact that Hadrian was the culprit probably made him so blase over it. The younger man was in need of guidance and Tom was more than willing to be the shoulder he needed to lean on in that moment.

He was very tempted to take the boy to his hotel, but felt a little bad. He would have then lied, and Hadrian would have likened him to a liar and therefore would think of him as untrustworthy.

He and Selwyn took the young man home, with Tom fishing the key out of the back pocket. No, he did not grab what was so readily available, despite wanting to. Controlling, yes. Obsessive, yes. Possessive, yes. A molester/rapist, no.

Tom would have nothing but Hadrian Potter's full compliance before doing anything. Preferably signed and documented as well.

The flat was lavishly decorated, obviously the young Malfoy's influence. Hadrian's room was easy to ascertain through the boy's mumbled words and the fact that Tom couldn't see Hadrian having a room that glittered.

Hadrian was far too gone to really care about the fact that Tom had wrapped his arm around the Gryffindor's waist. He merely slouched into Tom's larger frame and mumbled about how tired he was.

Tom took in every detail he could while he deposited the man on the bed.

Black bedding. Black shag rug. Black curtains. Black walls. Black furniture. Hadrian really liked the color black. The only thing of color was the green and white, stained glass cover on the overhead light.

Hadrian found darkness reassuring, apparently. The opposite of Tom.

Tom hated the darkness. Ever since…

He just really hated it and had his entire home furnished in various shades of bright greens and light silvers. Some appliances ever glowed in the dark.

"Thanks, Tom," the boy sighed, not even bothering to undress. He looked ready to fall asleep and Tom knew that any discussion would be useless.

Making his way to the door, Tom flicked off the light and only paused when he heard the lightly whispered, "Maybe he isn't so bad after all."

He closed the door quietly, thoughts rambling around in his head.

Also, the kitten covered dressing gown hanging on the back of the door was never going to be forgotten!

* * *

**A/N: Another is done!**

**-For anyone who recognized the strip club, Crystal Balls, I used it in Sexu Alley in my fic Deadly Eyes of a Phoenix Reborn.**

**How was it? Let me know!**

**Check out my other Tomarry/Harrymort fics!**

**See ya! :D**

**CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR.[HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLONFELLON](http://helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.tumblr.com/). I FOLLOW BACK.**


End file.
